Entr'acte
by Bluemoon613
Summary: Ryouta struggles with Hiyoko's new relationship while performing on-stage for the first time. Hiyoko/Azami, unrequited Ryouta/Hiyoko, and pre-Ryouta/Sakuya. Written for the 2015 Legumentine's Tumblr Gift Exchange.


I own a laptop. I own my mind. I do not own Hatoful Boyfriend.

* * *

Feathers and commotion surged in the green room as curtain time drew nearer. Ryouta carefully applied his stage make-up and tried to not feel nauseated. Satisfied with his eye shadow, he smoothed over his skirt, a modified version of his maid café outfit.

"Opening night jitters?" Yasu, a bubbly greenfinch, poked his head into the mirror. Ryouta smiled weakly.

"My stomach's in knots. More than usual."

"You are looking a little green. Just try not to imagine forgetting your lines. Or missing your cue. Or fainting on stage."

"Yasu!"

"Just relax! Yoga breath with me," Yasu closed his eyes, looking like a proper yogi.

Ryouta followed suit, but couldn't seem to clear his mind. Shyness was not like him. At the maid café, he felt comfortable slipping into Coolene's persona and flirting with his guests. But a large performance in front of a faceless dark crowd for the first time set his teeth on edge.

"Get ready, everyone! We're on in five!" the stage manager called over the PA.

Yasu winked. "Break a leg, sweetheart," and off he went.

Ryouta watched the greenfinch flit away, wishing he could feel as confident. He reached into his bag to re-check that his phone was silenced, seeing a familiar little notification blipping up at him:

**GOOD LUCK, RYOUTA!111!1! IF YOU GET NERVOUS, I'LL STORM THE STAGE AND TAKE OVER THE THEATER. THEN NO ONE WILL NOTICE :-D**

Grinning, Ryouta went to take his mark. He couldn't be nervous; otherwise Hiyoko would crown herself queen of the thespians. Leave it to Hiyoko to make him feel better.

…she WAS just kidding, right?

* * *

One successful opening night later, Ryouta entered the empty green room. A torn seam caused the seamstress to hold him hostage until she finished lecturing him about proper costume care. _Everyone else is probably at the after-party now…_

"Found you!"

An adolescent _homo sapiens_ busted down the door and attacked Ryouta with a hug.

"I waited FOREVER. You think just because you're the star of the show, you can keep your fans waiting?"

"Star of the show? My character didn't even have a name, Hiyoko" Ryouta replied from her monkey, tree climbing choke hold.

"Sure she did! Scullery Maid #2! And she stole the show! Hey, sign my program for me. I want it for when you make it big," Hiyoko held it up expectantly.

"Well, only for you, master~" Ryouta said with a coy smile, "But you'll have to help me find a pen."

"Hunter-gatherer instincts, ho!" Hiyoko shouted and started to ransack the room.

"By the way, Ryouta, I don't suppose you're friends with the house manager, are you? That lowlife stole my camera!"

"Stole it?"

"Well, I was TRYING to take some pictures to give to your mom and he started going on about how it was 'illegal' and that 'pictures could be bought after the show' and 'copyright law.'"

"Well, it IS illegal."

"HMPH. Well, do you know where he's hiding it?"

"Hiyoko? Where are ya, kid?" A voice wafted from the backstage hallway. Ryouta felt his heart sink a few inches.

"Back here, Azami!" Hiyoko called out, couch lifted above her head.

"There you are," the sparrow poked her head around the door frame, "Spring cleaning?" she said, looking at the mess caused by her mammalian protégé.

"Do you have a pen? I want Ryouta to sign my program."

"Carve it into your soul, kid! Don't go anywhere unprepared," Azami chided as she fished out a felt tip and handed it to Ryouta. Hiyoko abandoned her search and wrapped her arms around the sparrow.

"Thanks, Azami," said Ryouta as he tried to put on his best smile.

"No problem, kid. Hey, you were really something up there. Auditioning for anything else?" Azami asked, carelessly running her wing through Hiyoko's hair.

Ryouta looked away, pretending to focus on his autograph, "No, this was more of a one-time thing. The director wanted to bring in a bigger crowd, so he offered some money to anyone who auditioned from the maid cafe." Satisfied with his work, he handed the program over.

_**Hiyoko, I'll always be YOUR biggest fan. Love, Ryouta**_

Hiyoko read it over. "Not Coolene?" She questioned.

Ryouta shook his head, "Not this time."

"Well, it's perfect. Thank you." Ryouta lost himself in the smile she gave him.

"Shouldn't we get going?" Azami interrupted.

"Oh right! We have a reservation at The Emerald Panda. Do you want to come with us, Ryouta?" Hiyoko asked.

Ryouta hesitated and said, "No. My stomach's acting up. I think I should get an early night."

Hiyoko's face fell, but she nodded. "Take care of yourself, Ryouta."

"You too. I don't want to hear about you losing a fight to some gang of jackals!"

"Psh! We're more than enough of a match for jackals! Dingoes, now, they would be a worthy challenge," Hiyoko looked thoughtful.

"Don't give her any ideas! She's reckless enough as it is," Azami grumbled, but her eyes twinkled.

Hiyoko hugged Ryouta goodbye and left hand-in-wing with Azami. Ryouta blinked rapidly as he watched the couple walk away. He sunk into the nearest chair.

He wanted to like Azami, he did! But the closer she and Hiyoko became, the further his best friend drifted away. The more he felt replaced.

Without Hiyoko, he would have no one in the audience.

A curt knock snapped the rock dove out of his gloom. When he opened the door, a stoic crow loomed over him holding a large bouquet of peach and white colored roses.

"Kawara Ryouta? These are for you. _Bonne nuit._"And he left without another word.

Probably from mom, thought Ryouta, but why she would choose such a dour delivery boy, he couldn't say. He found the card, reading:

_**An adequate performance. Feel honored. Sakuya Le Bel Shirogane **_

Ryouta shook himself out of his shock. _Sakuya?_ He re-read the note once. Twice. That was definitely the fantail's signature taking up half the card. _'An adequate performance,'_ Ryouta rolled his eyes. _A high compliment from a Le Bel, I'm sure. _

But he drew the flowers to his nose and inhaled, smiling.


End file.
